


self care

by somethingsintheair



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Time travel fuckery, all angst with left hope, temporarily dead character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: When Sung's errands go horribly off course, he witnesses something he never thought he'd see for himself.





	self care

The moment he woke up, Sung decided today was going to be a productive day. He’d been putting off a good chunk of his to-do list for a few days now, and it was about time to buckle down and get some shit done. So, after a hearty breakfast and a quick morning workout, he set off to complete his first task.

He’d initially planned to run some errands in the near future, pick up some materials he needed for an upcoming project. They wouldn’t exist for at least another century or so, and were borderline illegal in the time they were invented, so he knew he had quite a day ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure what sent him so far off course, but he ended up much, much further away-- and in the complete opposite direction. The jump knocked the wind right out of him, since the device that got him there was embedded in his chest cavity, and he needed a few moments to get past the initial shock. He blinked as he looked around him, adjusting his helmet where it went slightly askew, and breathed in a little gasp when he realized just where he’d ended up.

He was standing in his old bedroom.

It had always looked the same, from his early childhood to the time he left home. The floor was a mess, covered in papers and tools and clothes. The wall was similarly chaotic, all marked up with pencil, paper taped up over some areas so he’d have more space to write. The only noticeable difference was his bed; it wasn’t neatly made as usual, as his mother insisted at least one part of his room should be tidy.

With the realization of what that likely meant, Sung’s heart sank in his chest. He knew he couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t bear it.

Just as he was about to jump back home, he heard a cry from somewhere nearby-- an agonizing wail, one that shot straight through him. Rational thoughts aside, he followed his first instinct to run to the source of the sound. Another cry led him straight to his old lab, a beaten-up shed in the backyard.

He knew it was a terrible, horrible idea. But he stepped inside anyway.

A wave of nostalgia hit him the moment he opened the door. Positive or negative, he didn’t have a clue. It was a small space, somehow even messier than his bedroom. Clearly, he’d been busy in there, as the only uncluttered surface was the cot pushed into the corner. For a moment, he could recall fond memories of working long nights in there, until he recalled just what time period he’d found himself in.

He remembered this moment all too clearly… well, the moments before it, at least. His body was on the floor, right in front of him. Face down, pale, lifeless. The extinction of his species had quite literally just hit him, and needless to say, he hadn’t taken it very well.

Of course, Sung knew firsthand that the man at his feet had a much happier future ahead of him. His body would reboot itself eventually, he would pull himself together, and he would make life worth living again. But, to put himself back on that position, in that mindset where his entire world was crashing in around him… it hurt. It hurt enough to make his chest feel like it was collapsing in on itself. The feeling was all too familiar, and though it had been centuries since he’d last felt it, it was almost as if it had never left him.

The only thing keeping him from falling to a similar fate was the knowledge that two dead Sungs, one misplaced in time, would be far worse than just one.

Once he had a few minutes to process things, to calm himself down, he crouched down beside the body. He really had no idea how long it took him to come back, how much time he’d have before he had to make himself scarce. He also had no idea what it was that eventually got him going again, if anything, and a passing thought was enough to make him stick around:

_Maybe it was me._

Carefully, he took the body’s face in his hands. His skin was cold, alarmingly so, even if Sung knew that was to be expected. It was a dead body, after all.

After some thought, Sung rolled him onto his back, and couldn’t help but wince at how much worse he looked from the front. He’d encountered other versions of himself on his travels, even spoken to some, so it wasn’t looking at himself that was the problem. The thing was that they’d all been… well. Alive. It was so strange, so eerie, seeing himself in such a ghastly state.

Gently, he rested a hand on the body’s chest, right in the middle. He furrowed his brow. It was so… smooth. Untouched. He hadn’t created his core until after he woke up from all this, but he always wondered if it would have saved him the trouble, had he done it beforehand.

His gaze wandered back up to the body’s face, and his expression softened. His instincts were kicking in again, and all he wanted to do was comfort the poor guy. He wanted to stay there for as long as he could, to be there for him at the lowest point of his life thus far. He knew it would help in the long run, he just wasn’t too sure of the ethical implications of hugging his own dead body.

Morals be damned, Sung was going to live to see another day.

He pulled the body’s torso upright and rested it carefully against his own. He was lighter, much more frail than his current self. Sung had nearly forgotten just how scrawny he’d been as a teenager, but he was sure the current state of events didn’t help that at all.

It had been quite a while since he’d hugged someone who wasn’t able to reciprocate, but that was okay. He knew he needed it, he knew it would make things better. He kept his arms snug around the body, in a secure hold against his chest. He was freezing, sure, but Sung was nice and warm, and that’s what mattered.

He stayed like that for as long as he could stomach it, and when it was time to go, he left the body exactly as he found it.


End file.
